


the strongest ties

by bubbleteabunny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 03:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12718590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteabunny/pseuds/bubbleteabunny
Summary: It's a quiet morning.





	the strongest ties

Your tiny apartment is the farthest thing from a palace. In a place as packed as New York, buildings side-by-side, almost like walls, it’s hard to come by a flat with extra space, unless you were packing the extra cash to be able to afford a penthouse. The first time Loki had stepped into your humble abode, you’d been embarrassed, because it is nothing like Asgard, all gold towers and gold furnishings and large enough to fit your apartment inside twenty times over (well, more than that even, surely—you couldn’t even comfortably venture an estimate). But he’d only smiled and told you there was nothing to be embarrassed about. That something like that is trivial, that it’s not about the place, it’s about the people in it. And his smile had been so kind you couldn’t help but believe him.

This morning he wakes up to an empty bed and finds you in your tiny kitchen, coffee machine gurgling as it prepares your drink. You’re busy at the sink washing the dishes from last night that you had been too tired to take care of then. The shirt you’re wearing is much too large, coming down to mid-thigh and leaving the rest of your legs bare. He stands in the doorframe, content to just observe, but you seem to sense him and he swears you’ve got powers of your own you just don’t tell anyone about. You look over your shoulder at him and the corner of your lips upturns slightly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He watches as you dry your hands off and check on your now filled mug. You start pouring in the necessary amount of cream and sugar for it to be to your liking. It tends to vary from day to day—less if it’s a lazy day, more if you’ll be busy. Today you’re conservative with how much you put in.

“What did you want for breakfast?” you inquire quietly because you’re not entirely awake and it feels like the rest of the apartment building isn’t either. You take a sip of your coffee, delighting in the hot liquid sliding down your throat, and keep your eyes on him, awaiting his answer.

Loki doesn’t say anything right away. All he’s thinking as he studies the fatigue evident in your half-lidded eyes is that he wishes he were that cup of coffee kissing your sleepy lips awake. He’d been beaten to the honor this morning. But he supposes second place is better than nothing at all.

“I was thinking maybe we could go out for breakfast. How about that café you like?” he suggests.

Your eyes light up (or as much as they can while you’re still trying to wake up) and you set the mug down on the counter, revealing your smile. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Loki’s own smile widens. “Wonderful.” He crosses the short distance separating you two, and you stay right where you are as he approaches. When he’s standing in front of you, he doesn’t do or say anything, nor do you. He lifts a hand to brush your hair behind your ear so he can more clearly see your face, then he gently sets his hand on your cheek, and his thumb starts gently stroking the soft skin, which prompts your smile to widen, and he can’t wait anymore when your lips are  _right there_. So he bends down to kiss you—it’s tired and it’s slow but it’s perfect.

He stands up straighter and you stare up into those blue eyes which seem to lead to forever and you think that if you fell into them you’d never stop falling; but you wouldn’t want to stop falling and so that’s a fate you’d be fine with being dealt. But you see something else in them this morning, and it lends itself to the uneasy feeling quickly settling in the pit of your stomach as you speculate about what exactly itis in those beautiful eyes. (You know—you just don’t want to admit it.)

The smile slowly fades from your lips and Loki’s alarmed because the moment it’s gone, he misses it. And also because he knows what’s coming.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?” It’s barely above a whisper when you voice this but it’s thunder in the pit of his chest.

Loki purses his lips and sighs quietly. “I do. But only for a short while. I’ll be back before you know it.” He gives you a reassuring smile and you smile back slightly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Asking him to stay is simply out of the question. It would be selfish of you to, and maybe for once you deserve to be because you’re talking about the one you love, but you resist. There are things he has to attend to back in Asgard, and you understand that. It doesn’t make anything better, certainly. You set your hand over his which is still on your cheek, wanting to savor every touch, to memorize the warmth of his skin because it’s all you crave. And you will never stop craving it. Every time he returns you’re seeing salvation and you’re eager to reach out and touch him once more.

“Just don’t go falling in love with anyone else while you’re out there,” you tease, smiling brighter this time. It’s half a joke and half genuine. The nine realms are vast and you’re just a girl in a small apartment in a big city and this will be the extent of anything you’ll ever know—Earth. But that’s not the case for the man before you.

Loki chuckles. “That could never happen. You know that.”

You still wear a smile but you’re not looking at him anymore, eyes staring off to the side, at nothing in particular. It betrays your uncertainty.

“Hey,” he says gently, to get you to slide your gaze back to him. “Do you know why I could never fall in love with anyone else?” He’s not smiling anymore, and his stomach is twisting because what he’s going to say are things he’s never even admitted to  _himself_ and the moment they’re out in the air, they’ll become real. Many days have been spent wondering if  _that_  day is  _the_  day—the day where he’ll show you the deepest parts of his heart, the places even he’s never been to, the places he hopes he won’t have to explore on his own. Because maybe you’d want to go with him.

You shake your head, and he takes a deep breath. “I think you’re a fairy tale. I think that when I tell you I love you, the words, they settle into your skin.” He slowly slides his hands down the length of your arms as he says this and feels the goosebumps that raise there. “It’s all over you. ‘ _I love you_ ’ written again and again and again. You’re my soul, and have been since the beginning of eternity. I looked for it and I found it and it’s you. And it could never be anyone else.”

It should only follow that the god of mischief has a way with words. They’re sincere, you can tell, and can’t quite keep down your bashful smile. When Loki sees it, he smiles too and briefly supposes that perhaps you already knew all those things, because body and soul are one after all. He kisses you again and he holds you close, thinking to himself that no matter how far through the universe he travels, there will always be a thread connecting you both, ready to lead him home.


End file.
